Reunion
by Zeratide
Summary: Roku grew up hearing of the bond between Uncle and Nephew, and building his own with the man the world called the Dragon of the West, while he called him Uncle. After the events of the Harmonic Convergence, Roku takes his father Zuko to the South Pole for his birthday. Once in the Spirit World, they come across some familiar faces...


I'm pretty sure that we all had the same reaction when we saw Iroh in Book 2, and I am also fairly certain that many of us began imagining what his reunion with Zuko would be like. So here, within the continuity of my Blue Spirit story, is my take.

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Roku glanced back at Zuko, nervously checking every patch of snow and ice as the old man walked through the terrain of the South Pole. "I'm old, not helpless," Zuko said moments later when he noticed his son checking on him yet again. "I simply wish you would tell me where our little trip is taking us."

"I want it to be a surprise, father," Roku stated simply, facing forward. Despite his calm demeanor, his heart was racing, and his mind kept replaying the last time he remembered his father cry. Within a few more minutes, they were walking through the portal, and as they came out the other side, and within another few minutes they were walking through a Spirit Forest. Roku felt the energy changing his appearance, making both him and his father appear younger.

Zuko was surrounded by a bright light, and Roku watched as the wizened, white-haired man seemed to grow an inch or two, and the wrinkles disappeared. The white hair that was done up in a topknot darkened from ivory to ebony, and the Fu Manchu disappeared. Zuko now appeared as he had after he had found his mother, and Roku appeared almost the same, though he did not have the famous scar, and his mother was plain in some of the smaller features. "Well, I certainly haven't looked like this in a long time," Zuko said, turning his hands over in front of his eyes.

"We're almost there, father," Roku said, and he led Zuko out of the forest, into a large meadow strewn with flowers. There was a small house with a several tables in front of it, and an old man was kneeling with his back to them, tending to a small garden. Roku motioned for Zuko to wait, and though he rolled his eyes, Zuko did so, waiting with a half-smile as his son strode up to the man, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Uncle Iroh," Roku said, quietly enough that Zuko couldn't hear, "I've brought Father."

Iroh paused in his work, before slowly setting down his tools and rising to his feet. Roku said, "Happy Birthday, Father," and there were tears in Iroh's eyes as he turned; Zuko's expression turned to shock as he saw the man who had played such an important role in his life, before his eyes filled with tears as well. "Uncle?" he whispered, and Iroh nodded, the tears flowing freely down his cheeks as both men ran to each other, embracing as they had not in many long years. "I… I can't believe…" Zuko couldn't get the words out past the lump in his throat, and he just hugged the man all the tighter, burying his face in his shoulder and inhaling the scent or earth and tea, half-forgotten but instantly recalled, and comforting beyond description.

"Nephew…" Iroh said, holding Zuko closely. "Death is only an illusion, Zuko, and one that I did not fully engage in." Iroh pulled back, wiping his eyes, and held Zuko at arm's length, looking him over as Zuko slowly changed to appear as his current self. "Look at you," Iroh said proudly, wiping his eyes again. "I am so proud that you found what you wanted. Sometimes I sit with another person here whom you know, and talk to her about your life together." Zuko felt a hand on his shoulder, and he froze, turning around slowly until he found himself face to face with his wife. "Mai!" he exclaimed, and he grabbed her, his appearance again changing to what it had been as he held her last. Man and wife held each other as tightly as they could, tears flowing freely, and Roku smiled from his seat, beginning to play and sing a simple children's song, though for his family it held so much meaning.

"Leaves from the vine,

Falling so slow,

Like fragile, tiny shells,

Drifting in the foam.

Little soldier boy,

Come marching home,

Brave soldier boy,

Comes marching home…"

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Review, and let me know how I did.

-Zeratide, out.


End file.
